ReChanging Channels
by InsaneInk
Summary: Pure Crack. If you thought Changing Channels was funny then you'll probably love this cracktastical fic. Spoilers for 5.08. The Trickster decides to mess with the boys some more...
1. Clowns are Relative

"Where the hell are we now?" Dean looks around; it seemed like a pretty simple place. So had the basketball court though, (And oh _man_ is he going to harp on Sam about the herpes commercial) Dean can't trust anywhere they end up.

Sam is next to him, looking around a bit wide eyed, (Dean would be too if he kept getting his manhood messed with) Sam looks up at Dean mouth pressed flat and brow creased with worry.

"Dean I know where we are." And as soon as he says it out of nowhere this big ass _face _comes over the horizon, a giant baby face that's glowing and acting like some kind of sun, it giggles and music comes from nowhere in particular-

A voice booms from the sky, "Over the hills and far away, Teletubbies come to play."

Oh_ shit_, no.

To Sam Teletubbies are the equivalents of clowns. Clowns are no go, as far as Sam's concerned. Sam huddles behind Dean when pipes pop out of the ground and echo over and over, _"Time for Teletubbies. Time for Teletubbies. Time for Teletubbies."_

Then the things appear. Seriously? Whoever made this show must've been on acid for the better half of their life.

The purple one pops up, jumping from one foot to another. "Tinky Winky!"

A green one pops up doing some odd shuffle. "Dipsy!"

Now a yellow thing comes, waving its arms around. "Laa-Laa!"

And a tiny red one jumps around (And frankly Dean suspects this one the most,) "Po!"

With each creature that comes up the hill Sam flinches backwards more and his hand twitches a little closer to his gun, but when they all turn and stare at the brothers, pointing and chanting, "Your turn, your turn, your turn, Yours!"

Apparently that's enough reason for Sam to blow their heads off.

As stuffing flies everywhere Dean's curiosity gets the better of him and he sticks his tongue out (it's not snow, but close enough) and whaddya know, Teletubbies taste like cotton candy.

"That went as well as I thought it would."

The Trickster had popped up behind the boys, an amused smile on his face. (Not that the expression ever changed.)

Sam lifted his gun and spewed, (Sam seemed to be calming down the past few days, but jeez that anger is still in there,)

"Motherfucker let us out, let us the hell out or I'll-"

"You'll what? Shoot me? Try it. I could send you to the Big Comfy Couch." The Trickster grinned slyly when Sam went sheet white.

He raised his hand and prepared to snap his fingers when Dean yelled. "Wait wait wait!"

Sam watched Dean scoop up some Teletubbie fuzz and stuff it into his jacket pocket with an expression of horror. Dean (Being himself) thought he was being rude and offered said fuzz to Sam. Sam recoiled.

The Trickster watched the brothers with an amused scoff, and finally snapped his fingers.

"Moving on, boys."


	2. Sequin Mania

Oh. My. God. Please don't shoot me for this. I can hardly believe what I write at times.

Thanks to BrilliantDance, deewinchester, enid18, and Kickapoo for watching this story~!

* * *

"You're kidding."

"I wish."

"No…I mean, it's just…..you've _got _to be kidding."

"Unfortunately she seems very serious."

Sam and Dean fidget uncomfortably while Oprah Winfrey stares them down. She's wearing a very frilly navy shirt that has a large flower on it, and black pants with navy sequins. Like a giant, sparkly, evil talk show host flower.

Dean shivers. (This woman has to be possessed, watching her on a screen was one thing…but in person? Jesus. ….Not that Dean ever watches Oprah. Of course not.)

"So boys. I understand you're brothers, and have been raised to hunt monsters all your life. How does that make you feel?"

"……."

"How does. That make. You feel?" She says, with more force behind it. It's like having a blinking contest with a rock.

Dean's mouth is twitching angrily, _Sam _doesn't get to ask him about his feelings so why should Oprah get to?

"Dean, I think-" She starts in but Sam pipes up in the chair next to Dean (Sam's hand is suspiciously inching closer to his waistband, and if anyone asks Dean there is definitely _not _a gun there, no, not at all…)

"Uh, Oprah, I really think you should just drop it. You're not going to get anywhere with Dean and feelings in the same sentence."

And the Sam uses the non-gun hand to hide his mouth from Dean and whisper to Oprah like it's some big secret. "He angsts more than me you know."

Dean is going to wring his neck for that, Sam is going to pay, (Getting beasted by Grandma the Pagan God will look like _nothing_ when Dean's through with Sam.)

Oprah crosses her legs and waves her hand towards Dean, her nails which are sparkly and blue seemingly reaching for Dean. (Good God is there a gesture more annoying than that one in existence?) It's like they're screaming to eat him. She _has_ to be possessed.

"Is that so? Dean, would you care to tell us why you think Sam says this?"

"No." Dean needs to break something. Smash a chair or two, bash a head here and there. Preferably Sam's.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm going to shoot you."

"I think it's time for the video."

At this Sam and Dean's heads whip up, and they talk at the same time. "What video?"

(Somewhere in the audience a very thrilled, yet creepy, voice says, "I love it when they do that!" Before it fades away and is swallowed by the sound of strait jacket buckles.)

On the giant screen behind Oprah a video plays, Sam and Dean's mouths dropping open as they watch little versions of themselves.

"What the fuck?"

Dean glares at Oprah, the last thing they need is a flashback to a crappy childhood, and while he's trying to Darth Vader her to death, there it is.

"YES!"

Dean jump onto his chair, rips the gun out of his pocket and points it at Oprah's face.

Sam, naturally the one who thinks he knows everything, (Little fucker, big brother knows best, so shut up and let him shoot Oprah,) stands up and reaches for Dean's arm to tug him down off the chair.

"What the hell Dean? The video isn't that bad-"

"Sam, she's possessed!"

"What?"

"You're brilliant you know, college education and all you've got is a vocabulary consisting of monosyllabic words."

"What?"

Dean thrusts his gun towards Oprah, (It's a funny scene actually, and the Trickster is still in the corner taking pictures,) "She's fucking _possessed_, Samantha."

(And Dean _knew _it, take that world,)

"Oh. Uh, should we shoot her…?"

"Heck yes!"

And Dean promptly jumps off the chair puts his gun to possessed Oprah Winfrey's forehead, and fires.

"Boom, Headshot!" Is all the brothers hear(Sam knows that was Dean,) before the talk show set around them fuzzes out and they're falling through the floor.


	3. Banana Hammock

**ALRIGHT. **My longest ReChanging Channels yet. Anyway, this one is for 'Scrubs' for those of you that don't know.

I want to thank all my new Watchers, and the people that Favorited this story and me as an Author. // You fill me with fangirl joy.

**For the beggining of this chapter Ted's capella band is singing, if you don't get the reference: http:// you tu be /watch?v=KCeQuqMS9Ww (NO SPACES)**

Also, if I could have your help, there's a poll on my page, (I really am stuck this chapter just hit me last night,) please go vote. Majority wins.

Happy reading~

-Grace

* * *

_Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high._

_There's a land that I heard of once in a, lullaby._

_Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind, me._

_Where troubles melt like lemon drops, high above the chimney tops, that's where you'll find-_

"Jesus Christ just shut up!" Sam had never seen Dean that pissed off, (…Okay so he had seen Dean that pissed but never at a random acapella group singing 'Somewhere over the Rainbow'.)

Dean glared at the four singers who were inching backwards. Towards the edge of the rooftop. Which was dangerously close, Sam might add.

"Where the hell are we now?"

"On top of a building."

"Thank you _Sherlock_." Dean sneered.

Really? There was no need for the misdirected anger. Sam had enough rage coming from all sides, and all he could really do about it was angst. (You know, 'I doomed us all'. The apocalypse thing. You know the one.)

"Fore!"

"What the fu- shit!"

Golf balls on rooftops. Gotta watch out for those.

"I said fore son, don't you know what to do when someone yells fore? Not that I'm complaining, your pain makes me laugh, but common sense boy."

Sam was watching Dean clutch at his head where the old man's golf ball had whapped him. It was funny. Dean kept bending over, and then standing back up. A deranged person trying to pray with back problems, he looked like.

"Ted if you're done chattering with your gal pals we need to go check up on Mrs. Mallory, make sure she's comfortable."

One of the acapella singers, (The balding one who was sweaty and nervous looking,) jumped, (It was more like a nervous fidget, something you could compare to, oh say, a worthless peon being called by the boss man,) and ran over to the old golf guy that was turning towards a door.

"Right away sir, whatever you say Dr. Kelso." When he wasn't singing Ted's voice was the same as his mannerisms. Nervous and fidgety. And watery, if Sam had to add another noun.

Dean had straightened up (Though still rubbing at his head, Sam was trying so hard not to snicker,) and watched Ted go by.

Ted was muttering to himself. He looked like a mutterer.

"Yes Doctor Kelso, let's go kiss the ass of another rich patient…" Before he disappeared into the door.

"Sam?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"Can we leave now?"

"That's not up to me Dean."

"Okay."

God he sounded like a little kid that didn't get what he wanted for Christmas. Sam really did hate the Trickster. (And as far as he was concerned Florida was still a no-go, off limits, do-not-want area.)

"Should we at least…walk around or something?"

"I guess."

They started heading down to the first floor, (And Dean glared at the Kelso guy, who only smiled wide and mocking right back,) and it turned out they were in a hospital called Sacred Heart.

Which was full of weird people.

When the elevator doors opened a scrawny guy in blue scrubs stood in front of them. Sam honestly did not expect what came out of his mouth.

"Banana hammock!"

Even Dean was thrown.

…How do you even _reply_ to banana hammock?

There was something up with this guy. Not 'black eyes and sulfur' up, more like….oh yeah. Sam knew what was going on.

He reached out to the scrawny guy, and pulled a saltine out of his shirt pocket.

Scrawny guy's eyes sparkled. Seriously sparkled.

He spoke with wonderment and joy. "You play?"

"Hell yeah I play."

Skinny raised his hand and Sam fived him.

And then Dean ruined the fun. "What hell are you talking about? Is this some geek game I don't know about? Sam? Hello?"

Sam really didn't want to explain 'Find the Saltine' to his brother at the moment, so he went with the best course of action. Which was to do nothing at all.

Scrawny guy popped out of his trance, (Sam could understand, 'Find the Saltine' was an adventure for everybody, you get lost in the salty goodness easily,) and started to flail around.

"Oh crap it's The Todd!"

"Who fived without The Todd?"

It was a really muscular guy in green scrubs running down the hallway to the elevator. (He was definitely a surgeon.)

Scrawny jumped into the elevator and mashed a button, squeezing between Sam and Dean.

The Todd caught the elevator.

"Wassup J.D.? What're you doing fiving without The Todd?"

"Sorry Todd..." J.D.'s face looked pained as he raised his hand.

There was a loud whip noise as soon as they hi-fived, The Todd snapped his fingers, and held his hand up for another five. Sam reluctantly obliged.

It hurt like a bitch. (Sam also began to wonder whether or not The Todd carried around a tape player so he could play sound effects whenever he fived someone, because his fives were totally deserving of the whip sound effect.)

The Todd raised his hand towards Dean.

Dean glared at The Todd's hand.

The Todd looked confused. And extended his hand further.

Bad idea Todd. Bad idea.

Dean whipped out his gun and pointed it at The Todd's face.

"Back the fuck up before I give you a new hole."

Todd wisely chose to back up, allowing Sam and Dean to exit the elevator. J.D. waved goodbye, (With his angry red just-got-fived-by-The-Todd hand,) and pulled out another saltine to hide while the doors closed.

"I hate the Trickster." Dean said in a defeated voice while watching Todd run away.

"Me too Dean."

"What in God's name is going on over here?"

Dean put his gun back into his waistband, and rubbed at his face. "Not another one."

Sam could sympathize with Dean's feelings. This was just bull.

"Who the hell are you two and why did you bring a weapon into my hospital?"

Dean turned to Sam, a single glance, (The exasperated one that said, 'Let's just get the fuck out of here.') and back to the tall curly headed man.

"We're leaving."

(Sam heard someone in the background, _"For the last time Turk, I'm Dominican!"_)

They started to walk, and the exit was right there, so close and yet blocked by an angry ginger that rivaled Sam in height.

"Now just hold on there Cinderella, I know you want to skip along with your Prince Charming here," A nod at Sam, (Somewhere deep within Sam felt really happy about not being the one on the bad end of a 'you're a girl joke'. He wouldn't tell Dean though.) "But you didn't answer either of my questions."

"Look man, I said-"

"A buh-buh-buh."

The ginger crossed his arms, (Did he just get a bit more threatening?) and glared down at Dean.

"I know you're just so-ho-_ho_ ex_cited_ to get to The Midnight Ball, but I think you should answer my questions before you get your shiny glass slippers _knocked_ off."

Sam read the red-head's name tag. He should at least know the name of the person his brother is about to stuff with bullets. (Maybe the slippers comment was a little to much, but whatever.)

Dr. Cox is falling to the ground (With four new holes,) when the TV fuzz starts to form again, and the set begins to disappear. Off to Neverland, Sam supposes.

They're totally not fulfilling their roles.

* * *

R&R my lovelies~


	4. Psinapples 1

So sorry about the wait! And this chapter is really short....mostly because I feel that this particular channel should be 2 parts. Don't worry, this isn't it.

I'm also going to work on Intermission right now, so I'm not just giving a short little thing here.

**A/N AT BOTTOM**

* * *

When Sam knew what a floor felt like again, (which was wonderful, all this falling through air crap was getting annoying and Sam was half-tempted to kiss said stable ground,) he was very confused.

But aside from what was now mundane, (Confusion now a constant in Sam and Dean's channel surfing,) there was the new.

The very new feeling of being surrounded by pineapples.

Yeah.

The actual fruit, pineapples, along with giant posters of pineapples, framed portraits of fruit bowls filled with nothing put pineapples, what seemed to be blow-up pineapples, (What the hell?) Furniture in the shape of pineapples, a _computer _with a pineapple monitor, and…..Sam could go on forever.

"At least we've got stuff to eat." Dean commented as he wandered around.

Of course Dean would gravitate towards the blow-up pineapples.

Sam just sat in a pineapple chair and poked at a pineapple inner tube that was lying innocently on a pineapple table.

Sam was going to swear off pineapples for the rest of his life.

"I'm never eating pineapples again." Dean said. (Very seriously, much like Sam was thinking.)

Dean had a horrified expression on his face, still surveying the room for….for a way to _escape _this pineapple Hell.

Sam hoped.

Sam hung his head and rested his elbows on his knees only to notice that the tile floor was also an endless loop of pineapple print.

"This is so messed up."

Dean glanced over his shoulder when Sam groaned, and he could sympathize. This was way beyond their usual level of 'weird'. Which was normal, and crazy to everybody else.

God he wasn't even making sense anymore.

It took Dean nearly twenty minutes to find anything even worth checking out.

"Sam."

Sam lifted his head when Dean called, and cracked one eye open.

"I found a window."

Sam was out of the pineapple chair faster than any six-foot-four guy should ever move, and plastered himself to the window (That may have cracked a bit due to the speed at which Sam flung himself,) which was unsurprisingly pineapple shaped.

"Oh my god, Dean I can see things that aren't pineapple shaped!"

Dean would usually insert some smartass comment about how close to tears Sam was, or how he was clawing at the window, but once again sympathy reared its head and made him shut his mouth.

Though he couldn't help but laugh when Sam picked up that stupid pineapple chair and tried to smash the pineapple window, when it bounced back and hit Sam in the forehead.

He also couldn't help it when he saw that the chair left a red mark the shape of a pineapple.

Sam was pouting while Dean gasped for breath on the floor.

The pineapple-bruise only made Sam's bitchface funnier.

Sam had no clue what was going on, (Again,) and was getting impatient with Dean's laughter.

Oh haha, the chair smacked him in the forehead, big deal.

It's not like it-

……..Crap.

Sam scrambled around the room until he found a pineapple mirror, (The room was very well stocked with a variety of pineapple décor,) and saw the sideways pineapple above his left eye.

"Friggin jerk!"

Dean only laughed harder.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Can anyone guess what show this is?

......Is it ironic that I was eating pineapples while writing this?


	5. Psinapples 2

Aghk. I'm...really sorry about my lack of updates. Home issues have been affecting my internet access, and soon I won't even have any. So...don't count on much from me in a month or so. But for now, I write to please the public! **R & R~**

**-Grace**

* * *

"There are two strange men in our office."

"Strange as in, they're creepy, or strange like, we don't know them?"

"..If it's both do I get extra credit?"

"No."

"It's still both. They have guns."

"Oh joy. More guns."

...

Dean watches as Sam unpeels himself from the window, only to smash his face back onto it.

"That's attractive."

Sam is too busy searching the streets for anyone that might be able to save them, when he spots two guys pointing towards the office through the mess of pineapple window stickies.

"We're saved!"

Dean pokes a pineapple lamp. It is _not_ his day. "I'm sure we are Sam."

...

"Should we go in?"

"I think we'll be safe."

"How do you figure?"

"People that meld themselves to windows and make their face all scrunchy like that…they can't be dangerous."

"Right…"

...

When Sam starts banging on the glass with his gorilla fists Dean grabs his jacket and forcefully pries him off the window.

"Sam, chill! Nobody is coming in here to save us from Pineapple Hell!"

Which is of course the exact moment a pineapple archway opens up, and the two men that were on the street walk in.

"Thank you God!" Sam yells, presumably at God, while he scrambles for the exit.

"Sam!" Dean starts chasing after his brother, who has already taken gigantor strides across the street. Dean silently curses Sam's height for the billionth time in his life.

...

"Um. What the heck?"

"I think they really wanted out."

"And they couldn't find the door? It's right here, not that hard to find."

"Shawn. You're kidding right? You turned the office into a racist fruit bowl. I don't think they could see past the pineapple tiles."

"Oh well. They're gone now. Want some cake?"

"No. Because I can smell it, and it's pineapple upside-down cake."

"Killjoy."

...

Sam collapses onto a park bench, once the pineapple room of doom is far behind him. Dean finally runs up, eyeing his brother's hunched figure.

"You okay?"

Sam stops breathing, question halting his thoughts.

"..I just want to leave Dean."

Dean sits beside his brother, wishing he had some beers he could open with his ring, share with Sam, and everything would be alright. Everything would be fine, and they wouldn't be stuck jumping through television shows for life.

"Me too Sam."

At least they hadn't hit a sitcom yet.


	6. Shake What

**A/N: **I am so pissed at you don't even know. I edited this chapter with Author's Notes, long ones at that, click Save, and it just spazzes and dumps all my edits. *growly noise of frustration*

Anyway, enjoy the update.

**IMPORTANT A/N AT BOTTOM.**

* * *

"What the hell is this thing?" Dean asks, holding the device up in front of his face for examination.

Sam really doesn't want to answer, for various reasons, (1- If Dean finds out he know what these are, he'll laugh so hard his lungs might explode. 2- Sam doesn't want to believe what he knows is true. 3- It's so wrong.)

He holds one in his hands too, staring at it like it carries the plague.

"We're in an infomercial aren't we." Dean says tiredly, not even really asking a question.

Sam sighs. "Yep."

He holds his Shake Weight with one hand and throws it into a corner.

Sam pointedly glares at the ceiling, imagining the Trickster is watching. (He _knows _the Trickster is watching, and Sam flat out refuses to take part in this.. this abomination of a commercial.)

"What is the point of this thing?" Dean says from the other side of the sickeningly bare house they're in.

Obviously an infomercial house, large and roomy with only a few fake plants on short tables, and a pool in the background. He can even hear that annoying pseudo-elevator music tinkling in from nowhere.

Sam scrunches up his nose at it all. (And Dean is still staring at the Shake Weight like it's the blueprint to a space shuttle.)

He pleads in his mind with the Trickster, _This is getting so old. Please let us out. Please. I swear I won't try to stake you agai-_

Sam's thoughts are interrupted by the sound of sand, (Or beads, who knows,) swishing around. He turns slowly.

Very slowly.

And is horrified to see his brother using the Shake Weight. Just like in the commercials. (Legit.)

It's just so wrong looking. Sam buried his face in his hands and ignores the clicking of a disposable camera.

"So far I've got Sam stuffing a Teletubbie full of lead, Dean pointing a gun at Evil-Oprah, Dean getting hit with a golf ball, Sam smashing his face into a window, and now Dean, using the Shake Weight like a pro."

The Trickster laughs, somehow degrading them and laughing _with _them (Regardless of how not-laughing they are,) at the same time.

"I can't wait to get these developed, kiddos." The Trickster says.

Dean lunges for the tiny Kodak disposable, but only ends up tripping over nothing and falling on face. (Because all The Trickster had to do was snap his fingers.)

"Why Dean," Mock care seeping through The Trickster's unnaturally high voice. "Are you alright?"

Dean mumbles into the floor, too exhausted to move. (Sam knows he said 'Fuck you'. He's just awesome like that.)

Sam's shoulders slump dejectedly.

He admits defeat in this, but there's still no way in Hell (However literal that may turn out to be,) that he is saying yes to Lucifer.

He hopes his brother is ditto with him on that front. (He better be.)

The Trickster frowns and sighs angrily. "It's just not fun anymore, you moronic imbeciles." He's peeved at them more taking away his fun (Don't Tricksters have better things to do?) and Sam almost expects another Channel Change.

Just more torture coming their way, is what he expects. Almost.

* * *

**IMPORTANT A/N: **There's a reason I kinda jipped you guys with this short chapter.

I'm getting stuck on this fic. Not a stuck "out of ideas", but a stuck "too many ideas".

It's turning a mite serious, when my original intentions were to keep it cracktastically fun. And now...the tiny fangirl in my brain keep screaming at me.

**_"Sam/Gabriel. Do it. Do It. DO IT NOW."_**

Problem is, I _know _that's not everyone's cup of pairing/ship tea, but lately it's become sort of my OTP. Maybe. (Theshameforgivemewincest)

And. I just don't know. I don't want to dissapoint you guys or scare you off the fic. If it was Sam/Gabe, it would only be slight. Nothing graphic. Maybe just some pining and crushing.

My solution?

**I PUT UP A POLL. GO ANSWER.**

**PLEASE.**

**(It only takes three clicks.)**


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